Thunder and Lightning
by Lanku
Summary: Draco is afraid of storms. He hates the one between his parents the most.


Title: Thunder and Lightning (He Who Rules the Morning Star)  
Author: Lanku  
Summary: Draco is afraid of storms. He hates the one between his parents the most.  
Pairing: (HP/LM)  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Lucius Malfoy, or well, I don't own much really…

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Malfoy Manor

It was half past midnight and Draco was prowling the halls of Malfoy Manor restlessly. There was a storm brewing outside and Draco absolutely hated storms! Not to say that he was afraid because, of course, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys not afraid of a little rain and lightning, or so his mother said. Draco snorted and drew his blanket- he only brought it because it was cold!- tighter around him.

He shuffled right up to the door of his father's study, and stopped, suddenly embarrassed. Did he really want to bother his father with such a trivial problem? Draco sighed, laying his pale hand upon the mahogany door in front of him.

His father had just gotten out of Azkaban. The issue of a Death Eater being in such a high position in the Ministry caused a big clamor from the public, so the case was brought before the Wizengamots. There was a heated debate over the evidence, but the older Malfoy had always prepared for most everything.

He had made friends with almost every person on the Wizengamot(It didn't hurt that some of them were Death Eaters). No one could believe that they could be friends with a Death Eater, and so they did what humans- wizard and muggle alike- often do when faced with something they don't want to accept: they made things up.

The whole council told the public that they had, after careful deliberation, fully pardoned one Lucius Malfoy of all charges against him. They even went so far as to say that Lucius was a hero; tragically accused of being the very thing he had been fighting against. Of course, they never said why they believed he was a hero, but Draco was privy to believe that they ran out of anything witty to say.

Draco started at the burst of the thunder that resounded throughout the lonely halls of the manor. He took a deep breath to calm himself before opening the door. There was a burst of noise, which was not surprising considering that his father's study was sound proof, and when he was able to make out the separate voices and words, he knew that that night would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Imperio! Imperio! Dammit, Imperio!" The voice was sharp and desperate. When Draco thought of it, he thought of painful slaps and contemptuous glares. He never liked that voice.

"It's not going to work, Narcissa. You cannot, despite your lavish delusions, force someone to love you." That voice was deep and soft, and reminded Draco of the ocean. It was the voice that Lucius Malfoy had always used on his son when they were alone, the voice that had lulled Draco to sleep on many a night, and the tone that his father used most after he had gotten out of Azkaban. The tone of someone who was almost timid, afraid to insult or upset.

"Yes I can! You will love me! Crucio!" There was a sharp gasp, then silence. Draco wanted to run to is father and help, but suddenly he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He had just stumbled upon a big family secret- one he wasn't meant to see.

His mother lifted the curse, and there was a rustle of fabric as she gravitated toward her husband. "Oh, I'm so sorry darling, but you need to understand. I'm worried about you. Those ghastly beasts must have done something to you in Azkaban." For a second, Draco actually believed his mother, so he felt ashamed when he heard his father's next desperate words.

"I never loved you like that Narcissa, and I shall never start. Please, we were friends once, we can be friends again. But please, release me from our deal."

There was a moment of silence before Draco's mother finally replied, "If you want me to release you from it," Draco heard her tone and shuddered. It was how she sounded when, after Draco had dropped her glass of brandy on the ground on accident, she told imp to put his hands on the shattered glass. She had stepped on them, and it had taken Dobby all night to get all the shards out of his hands. His father had been out of town at the time, and when he came back, Draco had been too embarrassed about it to say anything to him. She continued, "Then you won't be alarmed if I kill the boy?"

Draco didn't know who she was talking about until his father growled out, "He's your son Narcissa! Probably the only good thing we ever did! How can you not love him? How can you stand there and say something like that so flippantly! How… how…"

Lucius broke off with a quiet sob, and Draco wanted to cry as well. The dirty truth was out. His mother couldn't care less about him.

"Easily. I'm a Slytherin, and a Black. And a Malfoy. I'll do anything, and use anyone to get what I want. Even that retched child."

There was a slap, and Narcissa let out a gasp of surprise. "That 'retched child' is my son. Our son. Why..." Lucius stopped to collect himself before he continued, "Why would anyone use their son as a bargaining chip to force love on someone?"

"Because I love you Lucius, more than anything." She sounded deceptively gentle, as if she was trying to calm a helpless child. "But I meant what I said all those years ago. If you try to leave me, I will either kill him myself, or I'll get the Dark Lord to do it. And you know I can."

Lucius was silent, and Draco almost went back to his room and bundled up in the bed, taking comfort in the familiar room, because the world outside of it was suddenly anything but. He couldn't do it in good conscience, though, not with his father's desperate sobs and pleas ringing in his ears.

So he took his wand out of the waistband of his pajamas and swung the door open to find two faces peering at him. He pointed his wand at the imposing face of his mother and spoke a spell.

One might think that Draco Malfoy, the supposed son of Satan himself would go out into a battle (for that is what it was in his mind) with a dramatic and sinful grace, shouting without a trace of regret words that with a flash of green light would forever end a life.

That isn't what happened though. Sometimes, Draco almost wished it did. What did happen was that Draco almost tripped on his blanket, barely stopped himself from hitting his head on the doorknob, pointed his wand at his mother and screamed the first thing that came to his mind, "Expelliarmus!"

The next thing Draco knew, he was enveloped in his father's shaking arms, positioned so he could only see the sickly glow of the fireplace against the wall.

However, he could still hear the sounds of his mother's pained screams, and he could still smell her flesh as it was burned from her very much alive- at the time- body. The spell had tossed his mother into the fireplace.

The storm raging outside suddenly seemed a lot less dangerous than the ones that occur inside houses, inside families.

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A/N I do realize that there was no slash anywhere there, but I figured i should put this up as a seperate story, because the story after this i s much lighter than this. I think. 


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